


Yuanfen

by Excaliburstark



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, American Civil War, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Awkwardness, Blood and Injury, Delirium, Fever, Fever Dreams, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, Injury, M/M, Romance, in the war, mild mutual pining, opposite sides
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-01
Updated: 2019-07-01
Packaged: 2020-06-02 05:14:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19434664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Excaliburstark/pseuds/Excaliburstark
Summary: Yuanfen: The force that binds two lovers together, or the romantic coincidences that bring them together.When Arthur finds a wounded soldier and take him under his wing, he knows he has a choice to make. Will he make the right one?Inspired by The BeguiledI hope it doesn't suck too bad. Enjoy x





	Yuanfen

**Author's Note:**

> Antebellum, is the architectural design used in pre-civil war America. Basically, its the style of big plantation houses. 
> 
> Cheslong, one of those long sofas that are kind of posh and look very French??? Idk Google it. 
> 
> They did have cigarettes and cigars in this time period however they didn't have filters. 
> 
> Blue belly is a nickname for union soldiers because of their blue uniform.

Heat beat down on Arthur, the runny yellow yolk of the sun was slowly thinning as the day wore on and darkness started to spill across the sky. The lingering humidity made sweat drip down Arthur's back and his hands were clammy as he exited the large gates to the Pendragons antebellum house.

The distant smoke rising over the tree line and the thundering gun shots echoing were a reminder that he should savour this time because soon enough he would be among the Confederates, reloading guns and sleeping in the mud.

Arthur closed the gate to the house before he crossed over to the wooded swamp. He knew mushrooms grew there. They sprung up like pebbles against the dewy long grass, nestled like secret treasures. He knew they were edible.

He remembered in his youth, when he was just a very tiny boy, that he used to come here with his sister Morgana. They would sit peacefully and enjoy the rustling trees. Their father stayed at home, wasting away, locked up in his room. His wife's death had hit him very hard and he often malingered inside.

Arthur stumbled a little as he crouched down, gingerly picking various mushrooms. He pocketed them then stood. He heard a groan and looked up. Arthur nearly fell back he was so startled; There was a man propped up against a nearby tree, his bloodied blue uniform marked him as an enemy but the weary expression on the man's face implied he'd do Arthur no harm.

Still, Arthur wished he'd brought a weapon. His father's gun was tucked away in a locked draw, too far away to be of any use now.

The man stretched a hand out and despite the distance between them, Arthur flinched back.

"Please." The man said, though he was more a boy really. His face was vibrant but war had marred it, blood and grime streaked his skin. A sluggish red dripped down from a graze at the boy's hairline.

Arthur leaned closer, he stared into two pleading blue eyes and found himself tracing the man's features. His dark hair curled, matted as it was, and stubble speckled his sharp jaw. His pale skin was almost translucent underneath the dirt.

"Please." He said again, his voice scraping through his throat. He seemed dazed, his chest heaved with laboured breathing and he winced as his back grated against the tree bark. Arthur noticed the boy was trying not to shift too much, when he did his leg twinged and the boy made a pained sound. 

Arthur had to make a decision, if he left this soldier would die but if he brought him into his home he would be risking himself.

Arthur swallowed and half turned away but his conscience berated him. He breathed out a sigh and reached down, heaving the wounded soldier up. He placed his arm around the boy's thin waist and told him to put his arm around Arthur's shoulder so he could help him walk.

Arthur didn't check his leg before they set off but from the wheezy breathing noises the soldier made, he could tell it was bad.

While walking the young man gave Arthur an appraising look but his eyes wandered. He seemed a bit out of it, the pain and heat had made him woozy. "You must be... The most beautiful person... I've ever laid eyes on." He slurred, grinning. Arthur blushed a bit and strode harder, dragging the man a little.

They hobbled through the gates and up the path. The nearest room to the entrance with a lock was the music room. He led them inside and placed the soldier, rather ungracefully, onto the cheslong.

Morgana would've been furious if she were here that Arthur had got blood all over it, it was her favourite seat to lounge on but right now his concern was with the soldier who was rapidly losing consciousness.

Arthur quickly rushed around for water, cloth and scissors. He also grabbed some tweezers and a needle and thread.

It was probably best that the soldier wasn't awake for this next bit. Arthur carefully cut the trouser leg and peeled the material away from the wound. Arthur tried not to wince upon seeing it, there were bits of metal sticking out of the man's leg and blood poured in thin rivulets. His leg was a gory mess.

Rolling his sleeves up, Arthur picked up the tweezers and started plucking out the shrapnel. He poured some of Uther's best whisky over it. After the wound was clean, he sewed it up as proficiently as he could. He'd watched Gwen, Morgana's maid, with beady eyes when he was younger.

He'd had a crush on her but she was always so focused on her sewing that she never noticed him, maybe she did but was ordered to ignore him. Arthur knew Uther frowned on close affiliations with slaves. Morgana and Arthur had treated her as an equal and Arthur was often ashamed when Uther didn't.

After hearing about the Unionists approach toward the South, many slaves had abandoned their posts. Gwen would have stayed willingly, as Morgana considered her a friend and treated her like one, but Morgana had snuck Gwen some money and insisted that she leave as it was her chance at freedom. 

Soon after Gwen left Morgana insisted that she also leave for a girls school in Tennessee, she had always hated this house and saw an opportunity to escape Uther. 

Uther had grumbled but allowed it. So Arthur had waved goodbye to Morgana too. Following her departure Uther had been called up to the war, leaving Arthur alone in the big mansion.

Arthur bandaged the man's leg carefully. Although his leg was clean, the man was covered in dirt and gunpowder. It peppered his skin.

Arthur held his breath for a moment before stripping the man down, he tried to be gentle as he didn't want to disrupt the wound or the soldier. He grabbed a pitcher of water and some scrunched up cloth, Arthur also put a sheet over the man for modesty.

First, Arthur cleaned his hands. His fingers were wet with blood, it coated him like red paint. Arthur's breath stuttered. If this is what he had to face when he joined the army, he wasn't sure how enthusiastic he was for it.

He'd always been told to fight for what he wanted but he wasn't sure how much he wanted this: blood and battle. In a war both sides always lost. Besides it was his father that was a staunch supporter of the confederacy. 

Arthur squeezed the wet rag and drew it from the pitcher to swipe across the boy's lean chest. The skin glistened and Arthur hesitated before dipping lower, quickly washing down his thighs and hips.

Arthur felt his knuckles tighten on the material, it was squeezed into a tight ball in his fist. With brisk efficiency he dipped the cloth back in the water then quickly cleaned the rest of the fallen soldier, he didn't bother to dry him. In this heat he wouldn't need to.

He put the various cleaning and faux medical equipment away. He cast one last look at the sleeping figure over his shoulder before shutting the door and locking it behind him. If there was one thing Uther had drilled into Arthur it was that you could never trust the enemy, no matter how beautiful they were.

*

The dawn rose, and apparently so did the walking wounded. A loud thud sounded as Arthur rushed into the room. The soldier was lying on the floor, groaning.

The boy looked up, his piercing blue eyes were shadowed but that didn't hide his fear. Arthur tried to keep his raised eyebrow down. What on earth was he doing?

The boy smiled sheepishly before grimacing as he moved. Arthur came around and helped him back onto the seat. Arthur had placed some clothes on the chair near the window when he had last checked on him, he'd assumed the soldier would be out for a while longer.

"Sorry. I woke up a bit confused and then I decided to put some clothes on. Got a bit dizzy whilst trying to get the trousers on." The man looked down bashful and his hands fiddled with the cuff of the clean pressed shirt. 

Some of the buttons had been mismatched and others had been missed completley. The shirt hung lopsided and the trousers were lose around the man's slim figure. His hair was sticking up and his face looked gaunt. 

"My name's Merlin, Merlin Emerson." The man said and held his hand out, Arthur shook it. 

Arthur was surprised to learn the boy had an accent, the peculiar tone finally registering. Merlin's speech had been too slurred to hear it before.

"I'm Arthur Pendragon. Do you remember what happened?" He asked.

Merlin nodded. "Yes. I apologise for my behaviour, hitting my head must've knocked the sense out of me. And thank you, I'm awfully grateful." 

Arthur tilted his head and tried not to take offence by the remark about the sense being knocked out of him. After all, he'd called Arthur beautiful and Arthur would be lying if he said he hadn't thought about those words on a loop.

"Where are you from?" He meant to ask in a more subtle manner but failed epically, Merlin's accent was noticeable but Arthur couldn't quite place it.

Luckily the soldier just grinned. "Ireland. I came by ferry to New York in search of a job. I had been in the pub chatting to this guy, he offered me $300 to take his place in the war. I had no other choice, my mother..." He drifted off and shook his head, cheeks reddening.

"Sorry. You don't want to hear about my life." He commented.

Arthur shook his head, fascinated. "No, no. Go on. I'm interested."

Flushing harder, Merlin continued. "Well, you see, my mother is quite ill. She's still at home but I left to try and make some money. We couldn't afford a doctor, not until I came here."

Arthur's eyebrows drew together. "And how is she now?" He asked tentatively.

Merlin frowned, a worried line puckering on his forehead. "I haven't heard." He bit his lip. Arthur snapped his gaze away.

Merlin had slumped a little, as if the conversation had exhausted him. He leaned back and squinted, looking around. "Is it just you here?"

Arthur froze, muscles tensing. "Why?" He asked harshly.

Merlin blanched, surprised. "I was just curious. Sorry." The apology didn't ring with much sincerity, just a brazen defiance.

Arthur kept his guard up. "I'll take my leave, you need to rest."

Merlin looked disappointed for some reason. "Oh. Okay."

Arthur turned towards him, scowling. He didn't know why Merlin's disappointment had niggled him so much.

"You're not a guest here." He paused at Merlin's doleful expression, he had to make the rules clear.

"You are not a guest but an unwelcome visitor. I couldn't leave you out there to die but make no mistake, as soon as you've healed you'll be on your way." He finished tersely.

Merlin nodded. "Yes, sir."

Heart thrumming, Arthur left. He locked the door behind him, just to make sure. He felt uneasy. A handsome man was injured in his living room and fighting the opposite side to his father. What would Uther think if he knew? Arthur snorted at that.

Arthur decided he needed some fresh air, to be away from the house. He leant against one of the huge white pillars on the porch and did something he hadn't done in a long time- mainly because Uther had beat seven bells out of him when he'd caught him at it. 

He'd yelled at Arthur, how dare he steal Uther's cigars and cigarettes for the purpose of reckless youth, they were a delicacy and not for such clumsy characters or reasons.

Now that Uther wasn't here, Arthur took a secret joy in smoking one of those forbidden cigarettes. He didn't really like it, it left an acrid taste in his mouth and it made his throat dry. He often avoided the habit but it pleased him to flaunt Uther's rules and it helped him relax.

Arthur wondered if he should offer Merlin one, he'd probably say no. He didn't know why he thought that but he just got that impression. He wondered how old the boy was, he looked too young to meet the age of conscription.

Finishing off his cigarette, he dropped it and ground it with his foot till it was flat. He huffed and returned back to Merlin's- to the music room.

He knocked this time, in order not to startle the boy.

He entered after a few seconds and was surprised at how pasty Merlin looked. He was laying limp on the cheslong, as if he were a puppet with cut strings.

Arthur pulled up a chair to sit next to him. The boy appeared to be asleep. Arthur bit his lip, perhaps it would be kinder to let him rest.

He had been taking the key out of his pocket, about to leave when two eyes opened to half crescents. Just a slip of ice blue was visible. Merlin blinked and mumbled.

"Arthur?" He slurred before waking fully. He yawned and shuffled so that he was half-sitting.

Merlin looked vulnerable and unsure. Arthur sat, silent, letting his eyes drift over him, checking him over for medical purposes.

"I was just coming you want something to eat. Are you hungry?" Arthur questioned, hands in his lap.

Merlin stared.

Arthur wondered if Merlin had heard him before suddenly Merlin jerked forward, so fast that Arthur yanked himself back, tipping the chair over. He clattered to the floor then shot up, hands fisted as his eyes skittered to where the boy was half knelt on the daybed. Merlin's eyes were frantic, he held a hand out. 

He looked distraught. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to startle you. I won't hurt you. Please, I'm so grateful for your hospitality. I'm sorry."

Arthur grit his teeth. He turned the seat upright and put it back in its original place but didn't sit back down on it.

"Hungry?" Arthur asked again.

Merlin shook his head. His forehead was beaded with sweat, he collapsed bonelessly back onto the cheslong. He looked exhausted, pale and sweaty.

"No. Thank you." His voice sounded dry, Arthur poured him some water and tried not to show his shakiness, Merlin's sudden action had rattled him. Merlin averted his eyes.

"Thank you." He rasped again as he greedily drank. Arthur watched his throat move.

"Say, how old are you?" Arthur inquired. "You look awful young to be fighting in this war."

Merlin's chin jutted out. "Well I did just fine." He said.

Arthur smiled. "I didn't mean any offence. I'm just curious."

Merlin softened at that. "I'm eighteen." Arthur nearly choked, he was only a year older than Merlin.

Merlin pouted. "What? How old are you?"

"Nineteen. I'm joining the army in a few months. I'll be twenty soon." Arthur told him quietly.

The mood sombered and Arthur hated the pitiful look on Merlin's face. He tried to scrub it off by changing the subject.

"You sure you aren't hungry?" Arthur tried to convince him but Merlin was adamant.

"Feel a bit nauseous." Merlin admitted at last. Arthur worried, that was a bad sign wasn't it?

"I don't suppose you could do me a favour?" Arthur looked up, suspicious.

"Could you get me some soap and a razor?" Arthur's eyes narrowed.

"What do you need a razor for?" Arthur asked.

"To shave." Merlin said. He had a point, although the stubble was attractive it was growing at a fast rate and covering the sharp angles that Arthur found so intriguing.

"Stay here." Arthur uttered. There was no way he would let that boy anywhere near a razor. At the end of the day, when he'd found Merlin he had been wearing a blue uniform.

He came back, soap and razor in hand. He looked at Merlin.

"Now, not that I don't trust you and all but I'd rather I did it. I'm sure I'm more experienced at shaving than you, seeing as I'm older." Arthur said.

Merlin sighed, he didn't really have much choice. He didn't know how he felt about letting someone shave him but seeing as Arthur had taken him in and bandaged his leg, he didn't think he had anything to worry about.

He nodded, Arthur lathed soap over his jaw and very neatly drew the blade over it. Merlin tried not to hold his breath but having a near stranger with a blade so close to your face was a bit disconcerting, even if said stranger had saved your life. They were very close together, Merlin's gaze flickered between Arthur's face and the view outside the window. 

It didn't take long, Merlin cupped some water in his hand and splashed it over his face. He didn't feel any cuts, Arthur had been right. He'd done a much better job than Merlin himself would've.

It was clear Arthur could tell, if the smug look was anything to go off, satisfaction painted his face but rather than inspiring irritation Merlin found himself smiling. He soon tired and Arthur left him in peace.

Merlin spent the next few days bed ridden. Arthur had found an old cane in that time and was trying to convince Merlin to use it. Merlin finally relented, he only walked around the music room but it was enough to wear him out. He'd wobbled and winced and waved off Arthur's concern. They didn't try any more walking exercises after that.

More days passed but Merlin didn't seem to be improving, if anything he was getting worse. Arthur tried his best not to show his concern.

Arthur would change Merlin's bandages. This time, Arthur grew a little anxious when he was redressing Merlin's wound. Something seemed off, though it looked fine. It was quite red, Arthur didn't know if that meant it was healing or if it was the beginning of an infection.

Merlin seemed very lax, he was unable to concentrate on much and when he did it was usually to say something cheeky or witty. Occasionally he'd say something profound that would make Arthur ponder, not only about whatever subject he'd mentioned but also about the oddity that seemed to be the strange character he'd somehow become the carer of.

Merlin ate little and was awake even less. He spent most of his time sleeping, which concerned Arthur. Arthur was sat with him, he was usually with Merlin, and for once Merlin was awake. He looked as antsy as Arthur felt. A foreboding sense lingered, there was an impending feeling that something bad was going to happen soon, he wasn't sure why.

Arthur was yanked out of his inner monologue by a horse neighing, the Confederates must be passing by. Arthur told Merlin this and reassured him that he'd be back in a minute. He wasn't sure if Merlin had heard but his hand clenched like a vice around the cup he was holding. He'd only really been drinking, he ate a small amount of stew but couldn't swallow much of it down.

Arthur strode out to greet the Confederates at the gates. He called out for them and they halted seeing Arthur coming. They'd passed by a few times before and Arthur stopped them each time to ask for news of his father and each time they shook their head and said they had no word.

Arthur nodded his head towards the bedraggled men trailing along with them. "Who're they?" He asked.

The soldier smiled at him. "Blue Belly's. Don't worry, they won't be a threat much longer."

Arthur noticed a dark haired boy that held a mild resemblance to Merlin, his stomach clenched. Arthur just nodded and bid them safe travels. He rushed back into the house, ignoring the jeering goodbye the soldier shouted after him.

He came back inside, the door to the music room was ajar. Arthur panicked, he'd forgotten to lock the door behind him. His head snapped as he scanned the room, Merlin wasn't in there anymore. 

He searched the bottom floor of the house. He found Merlin in the kitchen, crawling along the floor. He was struggling to reach the door handle of the back exit to the garden.

Merlin saw Arthur and struggled harder, clawing at the handle as tears dripping down his face.

"No. No! Please, please." He begged hysterically, giving up on opening the door. Merlin was now curled against it with his knees against his chest, his wounded leg at an awkward angle. He tried shoving himself against the door but soon gave up, putting his hands in front of his face and sobbing.

Shocked by the outburst and unsure what to do, Arthur tried to drag him to his feet to bring him away from the various sharp knives and heavy pots in the kitchen but Merlin scratched at him, repeating his pleads. Arthur fell, face smashing against the squirming boy.

Merlin was shuddering underneath him, not even drawing a breath he was crying so hard. "Please. I don't want to die. Please. Please I don't want to die."

Merlin was a furnace against him, burning hot, heat radiated through his damp sweaty clothes and his eyes were fever bright. 

Clarity flashed in Arthur's brain. In his fevered delirium, Merlin thought Arthur had gone down to tell the confederates of his presence and take him away. The young man was scared out of his mind, snot dripped down his face. Arthur was still half hovering over him, he restrained Merlin's wrists in a hard grip, Merlin wriggled and cried. 

"Merlin. Merlin! Listen to me, they've gone. They aren't coming for you, okay? They've gone, alright, they've gone." He said, over and over until Merlin finally listened and settled down. Arthur let go of him.

Merlin had stopped crying and was now leant awkwardly against Arthur's chest, hands fisted in his shirt, as they sagged against the door. Merlin's sharp nails had marked Arthur's wrists and neck, tear tracts had dried and a dark flush were high on Merlin's cheeks and the bridge of his nose. 

Arthur cradled the boy to him, the ferocious grip fell away as Merlin relaxed. Arthur then lifted him to his feet. He sighed, they slowly eased their way to the music room with one of Merlin's arms slung over Arthur's shoulders similar to when Arthur had first helped Merlin. 

They returned and for the first time Arthur noticed how terrible the room smelt, a tangible festering illness. He'd rarely left the house, or the room for that matter, so he'd missed all of the warning signs.

Merlin's breathing was shallow, Arthur realised he'd fallen unconscious on the short trip from the kitchen to the music room. He lay Merlin delicately back onto the blood stained cheslong.

He manoeuvred himself next to Merlin's leg, he pushed the trouser leg up and near gagged at the sight. Ugly yellow streaks were gaping between the stitches and the skin looked red and irritated, it wreaked. Why hadn't Merlin said anything?

Arthur set to it quickly, cleaning it. He poured alcohol over it and he prayed for Merlin after he tended to him. He hoped after all his effort that Merlin lived, he was growing fond of him. Arthur cracked open the window then went back to Merlin, the repressive summer heat doing little to aid Merlin's recovery.

He wet some cloth and lay it on Merlin's head, cooling his brow which was spotted with sweat. He stripped him once more of his shirt and trousers. He put another cloth on Merlin's chest. The glittering sheen covering Merlin like a second skin fascinated and worried Arthur.

If by the morrow Merlin hadn't improved, Arthur didn't know what he'd do. He couldn't call a doctor and he didn't have enough medical experience himself. He cursed his lack of knowledge. It would be up to time and nature to determine Merlin's fate.

It must've been early in the morning when Merlin started talking gibberish, it woke Arthur who had drifted asleep in his chair. Merlin's mouth formed words that stuttered out in unconstructed sentences and broke off awkwardly. Arthur grabbed his hand and made soothing noises before stumbling about in the dark to light a candle and replace the cooling strip of cloth on Merlin's forehead. His fever had warmed the first one.

Yellow candle light filled the room, Arthur squinted against it. His eyes struggled to readjust due to the time and the sudden brightness.

Arthur checked Merlin over. His breathing was more regular but he was still too hot, though Arthur thought he was cooler than before. He slumped back into the chair.

He didn't know what time it was when he woke up again but this time he'd fallen asleep with his hand still curled around Merlin's.

Merlin didn't wake for another day or two and when he did Arthur was surprised by the crushing relief that blossomed in his chest.

"Hey there." Arthur said, heart fluttering.

Merlin groaned and turned slightly so that his face was buried in his arm. Arthur frowned.

He stroked Merlin's hair lightly, convincing him to turn back over.

"'Lo" Merlin greeted.

Arthur smiled at that and fetched him some water before helping him sit up.

"Feeling better?" He asked.

Merlin nodded sluggishly. "Much better."

Arthur watched him, analysing if the statement was true.

"Why didn't you tell me? About your leg." His tone was light but the question was serious.

Merlin didn't meet Arthur's eyes. "You showed me such kindness. I didn't want to impose even more. Besides I'm not sure I was with it enough to tell you by the time I realised. I'm sorry, I feel so ashamed."

Arthur sighed, deflating. "You certainly gave me a shock but you were ill and not yourself. You are however still an idiot." Arthur smiled fondly at him as he teased, trying to lighten the mood.

Merlin didn't scowl or snap back, as Arthur had expected him to. Before Merlin's feverish delusion, they'd had some pleasant conversations though Merlin did seem to have a defiant streak. Arthur didn't mind, it usually amused him.

Merlin's fingers reached out and encircled Arthur's wrist. Arthur looked up.

Merlin didn't speak but his eyes said it all. Arthur just smiled and gave a single nod. If Merlin said thank you one more time, he'd wear the word out and Arthur had already complained about his irritating perennial gratitude.

Arthur understood the major risks he was taking by housing and helping a Union soldier. However he also realised not to judge an individual by the side they fight for. Arthur already harboured the belief that his father was fighting for the wrong side but meeting Merlin had solidified his resolve. He could go into a philosophical debate about it later, right now Merlin was awake and looking at him.

Merlin swayed forward, just a tiny amount but Arthur noticed. He put a steadying hand on Merlin's arm. He felt charmed into a lull by their intoxicating closeness. Merlin was less than an inch away, his breath tickled Arthur's lips and Merlin's eyes were huge, dilated.

Arthur found himself looking at Merlin's mouth before flickering back up to his dark eyes, he leaned forward. They were a hairs breadth away from each other and heat was crawling up Arthur's neck, when he realised what he was doing. Merlin was still recovering. He pulled back, the chair creaked as he did so, and the moment passed. Arthur tapped Merlin's fingers, which slowly slipped from his wrist.

"I'll go and get you something to eat. I'll be right back." Arthur mumbled. 

He was reaching for the door when a knock sounded. They both froze. 

Arthur's back became a rigid line and all the colour that Merlin had regained drained from his face, he was as white as a sheet. He sat up straighter, his ghostly pallor heightened Arthur's anxiety.

He motioned for Merlin to stay quiet. He crept out of the room and locked the door behind him. On his way to answer the persistent knocking he unlocked his father's cabinet and took out the gun.

He held it behind him as he opened the door, it was two confederate soldiers.

"Hello, gentlemen. How may I help you?" Arthur swallowed down his nerves but they still danced around in his stomach.

He set the two soldiers up with a hot meal and sent them on their way, wishing them luck. He was surprised they hadn't stopped at one of the neighbors houses. Maybe they'd seen the candle light, it was quite late. He wouldn't be surprised if everyone else was asleep.

He quickly entered back into the music room and saw Merlin huddled, looking about ready to keel over.

"Its okay." Arthur's hushed voice told him, Merlin moved over so that Arthur could sit down.

"Two soldiers. Gave them food and then they left. It's okay, you're safe." Merlin breathed out a sigh and his forehead touched Arthur's chest as his body bowed forwards.

Arthur's hand cupped the back of Merlin's head and he let his fingers tangle in the dark strands, his chin rested on top of Merlin's head. They stayed like that until Merlin's eyes started shutting.

As Arthur closed the door once more, no longer locking it, he felt a pang of regret. What for, he was unsure.

Merlin soon recovered, his face was now a healthy glow. He was even well enough to give walking another go. He shuffled all the way to the porch and back, with help from the cane of course. Arthur supported him and caught him when he stumbled.

They bantered and exchanged quips and witty remarks. Arthur hadn't really talked to anyone in a long time, so this was a pleasant change.

Merlin managed to stagger his way into the garden, which is where Arthur found him after a bit of a panic. He thought Merlin had taken another turn for the worst, which he informed Merlin in a very angry tone when he discovered him clipping the roses. Merlin had the grace to look chastised, he bowed his head and mumbled an apology or two.

"What are you even doing?" Arthur asked, still feeling a little exasperated by his runaway convalescent.

Merlin looked at him then at his surroundings then back at Arthur with an isn't it obvious kind of look.

"Gardening. Yours is in a right state. Your hedges need pruning, the tree branches need cutting and the wild roses are a mess." Merlin said.

"And how do you know anything about gardening?" His tone dripped with a mix of mockery and genuine disbelief.

Merlin looked at him haughtily. "I had it as a job once." His cheer dwindled. "Needed the money."

Arthur nodded before worry kicked in. "Should you be kneeling like that, near all the mud. I don't want your leg getting hurt."

Merlin shrugged and picked the tool back up. "No. It feels fine."

Arthur stood, watching. When Merlin had first arrived, Arthur probably would have attacked him if he'd seen him with an axe or any of the other gardening tools before he'd known him. Now he just found the sight endearing.

"I'll go get you some water, don't stay out in the sun too long. Don't want you fainting on me again." Merlin grinned and cheekily stuck his tongue out as Arthur wandered back inside.

Arthur insisted that now Merlin was able to walk with little pain that they both make the effort to eat at the table, in a civilised manner.

He cooked up a quick meal, it was plain but Merlin seemed appreciative, his stomach rumbled and he readily tucked in when he was presented with the plate of food. Arthur would've laughed if he wasn't so focused on the way Merlin was licking his lips.

They finished fast, the candle hadn't gone down very far, though wax still managed to drip everywhere.

Merlin smiled contentedly. "So, how come its just you?" He asked.

Arthur didn't tense up like he did the first time, he realised now that Merlin was just a curious fellow. Nosy, was the more accurate word for it.

Arthur tinkered with the cutlery before answering, it was a hard question. "My father is away, fighting this war. My sister is at a school in Tennessee and my mother... She died when I was very young, of TB."

Arthur didn't want to look up and see the pitying look that would be plastered over Merlin's face, so he kept his eyes trained on the candle, gaze following the big glop of melted wax that was sliding down.

"You're in this big house all by yourself, that must be hard work. No wonder the garden is overgrown. Why don't you get the neighbors to help out?" Merlin inquired.

Again, Arthur hesitated. "I don't know. Pride, I guess. I also don't want to trouble them and they live a distance away, they've got young children. I figured I could just manage by myself."

"Must've been lonely." Merlin said.

Arthur tried not to let that comment bother him, or the sad way in which Merlin had said it. He collected up the plates. They said their good nights, Merlin returned to the music room and Arthur went upstairs.

Each step creaked as he went and by the time he reached his room, he had forgotten what Merlin had said and how he'd said it.

  
*

Arthur didn't know how Merlin could stand it, the boiling summer heat of August but there he was, working in the hot afternoon.

The great sweeping fronds of green that hung from the trees and drifted in the light breeze seemed picturesque as Merlin knelt, hands as grimy as when Arthur had first met him and the skin of his face and hands were tanned. He was no longer the pasty Irish boy that had lay sick in the music room for so long.

He noted that despite being a skinny little thing Merlin had some muscle, he was lithe yet toned especially his arms and chest. Arthur watched the flex of Merlin's arm as he pulled out yet another weed.

Merlin noticed him at last and got up. He dusted the trousers off and came towards Arthur. As he wandered over, his fingers brushed leaves and flower heads, they bowed to him as though he were a prince, they bent to pay respect before returning to their original position once Merlin had passed.

Arthur shook his head and blinked. Merlin beamed at him. He'd wobbled a bit as he'd walked over, he was still using the stick but his leg seemed much better.

"You look rather hot." Merlin observed. Arthur blushed and looked at Merlin, a little stunned.

"You should drink some water. Being out in the sun too long can be bad for you." He said, Arthur could swear he was hiding a smile behind his wrist as he swept a hand over his face.

"Good idea. Care to join?" Arthur offered. Merlin looked back at the tangle of plants that he'd been working on.

"Sure. They can wait." Merlin followed him inside. Arthur was patient as Merlin still took an age to go anywhere. The stick slipped a little on the porch, the end of it was muddy.

Once they were inside, in the shade with a cool drink in their hands, Arthur made a suggestion that surprised both of them.

"You know, you can take a room upstairs if you want a proper bed. There are plenty of them."

Merlin's eyes had widened and he'd coughed a little as his drink seemed stuck in his throat.

"I- Thank you, I'm grateful for the offer." Merlin looked doubtful suddenly. "I'm not sure my leg is ready to try the stairs just yet."

Arthur nodded. Right, yeah, his leg. Arthur managed to forget about Merlin's injury sometimes, despite the stick and the fact that it was supposedly the only reason that Merlin was still here.

Arthur wasn't sure what would happen when Merlin fully healed, it wasn't something he liked to dwell on.

They ate dinner together, as they had every night since the first shared meal. Sometimes Merlin's melancholy line echoed in his head and filled his thoughts. Did that mean Merlin felt lonely? Or just that he had also felt loneliness? Arthur gave up trying to puzzle it out after a while.

There were times when Arthur considered that Merlin was flirting with him. They'd trade jokes, swap stories and call each other names. None of them ever felt like genuine insults though. Merlin would sometimes lean a little too near before clambering away again and every now and then Arthur could swear he felt Merlin's breath ruffle his hair but when he'd turn around, Merlin would be looking elsewhere.  
Their hands would often brush as they washed the plates or when Arthur handed Merlin a drink and for a few seconds each time Arthur's heart would splutter before he realised it was probably just an accident.

"Do you play?" Merlin asked one evening, he was sat with his feet touching the floor rather than resting on the long daybed.

It had been a few weeks since Merlin's fever had broken and his leg was on the mend. Arthur's birthday crept closer and he found he was sort of dreading it. He didn't want to be called to war, it was now a looming terror in a way that it hadn't been before he'd met Merlin. He also wasn't sure how much he wanted to fight on the confederates side but how could he oppose his father? Equally, how could he endorse the exploitation and discrimination of people who were no different to him except that they'd fallen under a different category?

It was people like his father that had put those people in that category, which made it even worse. Could he keep his conscience clear and fight for slavery? These questions had been whirling around his head for quite some time but Merlin's arrival seemed to have triggered them into overload.

Arthur nodded, bring himself back to Merlin's question. "Yes. My sister, Morgana, forced me to learn piano at the same time as her. She plays violin as well, she's very good at it. I miss her sometimes. She played a lot in the evenings." Arthur said, nostalgia colouring his tone.

"Play for me." Merlin said. Arthur snapped his head up.

"What?" Arthur asked incredulous.

Merlin had a small smile teasing the corners of his mouth. "Go on. Play something."

Arthur placed a very put upon look before moving away from Merlin to sit by the piano. Merlin was grinning at him from across the room. "Go on, go on." He encouraged.

Arthur's fingers glanced over the keys but he was focusing more on Merlin's reaction than the actual playing. The expression of joy was unlike anything Arthur had ever seen.

Arthur accidentally hit a few wrong notes and Merlin let out a peal of laughter, it hung in the air, jubilant, shining like a raindrop in a cobweb at dawn. Arthur was so memorised that he didn't even mind being laughed at.

Merlin was still smiling when Arthur came back to sit with him. They fell back into companionable chatter before silence lapsed over them. They sat together, side by side and something in the air seemed to change. Their thighs pressed against one another and Arthur felt his breath hitch as Merlin rest his hand lightly on Arthur's knee.

"Arthur." He whispered. Arthur turned to Merlin, he was so close he could see his darkened pupil and the many different shades of blue in Merlin's eyes.

Merlin's hand found Arthur's and their fingers wound together. Arthur tried not to breathe too heavily but struggled to maintain his composure.

"Yes?" He swallowed.

Merlin leaned forward a little, until at last, sweet mercy found him and their lips softly parted and their mouth's joined. Arthur shuffled closer, his free hand rose to palm Merlin's face and then settled behind his neck, twisting the curls at the nape of his neck between his fingers.

Their woven hands split, so they could reach more of one another. Merlin's hands roamed over Arthur's chest before tugging him closer. They parted, still holding each other. They breathed the same breath, their foreheads touched.

"Oh thank god." Merlin let out a breath. Arthur pulled back a little so that Merlin could see his puzzled expression.

"I was a bit worried you'd shoot me or something. You've given some very mixed messages." Merlin let out a light laugh but Arthur frowned.

"If anyone's been giving mixed messages, its you. I was never sure if you were being you or if it was some strange delirious moment caused by feeling ill." Merlin faltered at that.

He brushed his nose against Arthur's. "Well, I'm just glad we've finally figured it out."

Arthur rolled his eyes and smiled, clasping Merlin's hands in his own.

"Me too."

"C'mere" Merlin dragged Arthur forward until their lips met, they both grinned into the kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> To be continued?
> 
> Also a quick disclaimer: I do not agree with slavery. Arthur doesn't either he's just conflicted because of his father's views. I am in no way condoning slavery.


End file.
